It’s the beginning of the month and respect is due! I’ve been slept on for years. My previous life as a c-string vegetable was rough, but now they’re finally over. Consider this my CV. Consider this my self-delivery of roses. Consider this a receipt of why there’s not another damn vegetable who is out here grinding harder than me.

Day one: I’ve been with y’all since grade school lunches. Completely smothered and sautéed in butter (margarine if your school district was saving money). This was my awkward duck stage. However, after 5 years of deep introspection, I’ve accepted every part of me. I regret even trying to bite others’ styles. When I saw how you fawn over steamed broccoli with cheese, I thought to myself Huh? I can do that, too! It didn’t work. I felt like a tomato still trying to convince everyone that it’s a fruit.  Then there was my lowest point. I lost a lot of self-respect and just went raw in any salad that would take me. Look at me now, though! I’ve gone from elementary schools to bougie brunch spots. It’s astounding how my decades-long journey is even called an overnight success. 

My turning point came in the 2010s. I was kicking it with Kale one day. Kale went from a nobody to being in everyone’s mouth. He’s one of my closest friends and I admire him, dearly, but I’m a liar if I didn’t admit I was jealous. I couldn’t wrap my head around how an unsavory, bitter leaf became a bragging point for people who eat a vegetable once a week(Word on the street is that he sold his soul to Monsanto, but he’s my boy so I never bring it up). 

That day I flat-out asked, ‘Bruh, what’s your secret sauce?’ Aioli? Sriracha? Worcestershire?’ Ol’ dude laughed in my face, but eventually let me peep game. He leaned in and whispered, “When they’re done with potatoes, just make sure you’re versatile…also, drop the “s” after Brussels. It’s annoying.”

Now I go by many names in your gentrified streets: brussies, bru-spros, mini-cabbies. I’ve revamped my style for all occasions. I’ve gone from stove tops to air fryers, becoming a 21st century icon. I’m crisped, seasoned, and ready for whatever you need.

Need a veggie with international appeal? Call me Brussel Peters

Need a last minute, clutch side-dish? Call me Brussel Westbrook

Need something wholesome to bring home to mom? Call me Brussel Wilson

Haters out here say that I’ve become too brash. Too boastful. Too arrogant. If you want sweet, add a balsamic reduction, but don’t reduce my shine. Talk to me nice.